The Meaning Behind a Name
by In Flanders Fields
Summary: Everyone wants their name to mean something to someone. Unfortunately, the only thing the name Harry Potter means to his relatives is "burden" or "freak." To the magical society, the same name means "the-boy-who-lived." To Harry Potter, the name means nothing. Why? Because apparently Harry Potter never existed. A SNxHP crossover. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: SN and HP belong to their creators/publishers.

 **[A/N]:** Timeline of the story: All ages reflected as of what they would be in 2003. The ages of the characters at the time of their death are posted beside their death date.

Some dates are based on guesses rather than specifically recognized dates.

 **1950, August 12** \- Bobby Singer born (age 52)

 **1954** \- John Winchester born (age 49)

 **1954, December 5** \- Mary Winchester born (would have been 48)

 **1957** \- Vernon Dursley born (age 45)

 **1958** \- Petunia Dursley born (age 44)

 **1960, January 30** \- Lily Potter born (would have been 43)

 **1960, March 27** \- James Potter born (would have been 42)

 **1979, January 24** \- Dean Winchester born (age 24)

 **1983, May 2** \- Samuel Winchester born (age 19)

 **1990, June** \- Dudley Dursley born (age 12)

 **1990, July 31** \- Henry "Harry" Winchester (age 12)

 **1990, November 2** \- Mary Winchester is murdered (age 36)

 **1990, November 2** \- Henry "Harry" Winchester goes missing and presumed dead (age 3 months and 3 days)

 **1991, October 31** \- Lily and James Potter are murdered (age 31)

 **1991, November 1** \- Harry is left on his aunt's doorstep (age 15 months)

 **2001, July 31** \- Harry gets his acceptance letter to Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

 **2001, September 1** \- First day of Harry's first year at Hogwarts

 **2003, February** \- Where our story begins...

* * *

Witnesses to crimes can find themselves in grave danger, which is why there are protection programs for such persons. But when the crime is child abuse, the only witness is the abuser and the one who is being abused and the crime can occur for years before anyone suspects anything. All that being so, it's easy to say that sometimes help in the form of intervention can come too late.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case for Harry Potter, at least in the form of help arriving too late, and he really owed all his thanks to his despised potion's master. Not that the man had intentionally been trying to help him or anything.

-SNxHP-

It was supposed to be part of the second year curriculum that the paternity potion was to be taught. Snape, in particular never liked doing this lesson, for all the obvious reasons. He thought that the brats were too young and nïeve to understand the reason behind the results should they prove a startling revelation as it would once in a while. It would shatter their perfect little world if they found out that their mummy and daddy weren't actually their mummy and daddy.

"This potion…. Will tell most of you what you already know, for the other few of you the results may be a _nasty_ surprise." Snape drawled curling his lip into a sneer at the last part, but the glim in his obsidian eyes made it obvious that he was taking some delight in the fact that he had the potential to ruin at least one of their lives, Harry thought angrily.

That was just like Snape to take glee in something so life-altering as finding out the people who you thought were your parents turned out to be someone else instead.

Of course, Harry knew that it wouldn't be him that Snape would relish in watching him have a meltdown, Harry knew what the potion results would say: **Father:** _James Hamish Potter_ , **Mother:** _Lily Lavender Evans_. He was practically a carbon copy of his father minus the eyes, or so everyone who knew his parents, said. And Harry supposed he could see a resemblance to his parents in him through the pictures he had of them.

So it never crossed Harry's mind that he might not be the son of James and Lily as he continued to listen to Snape's monotonous lecture half bored to stupidity but not brave or stupid enough to actually fall asleep.

"If for any reason you have to leave before the end of class, your potion will be marked as a Zero and you fail this lab." it was an abrupt change of topic that Snape elaborated on what he meant.

"Two years ago I was teaching this potion to second years when a girl found out that her father was, in fact, her uncle," Snape smirked as he no doubt recalled the events that played out right thereafter. "And her sister was actually her half-sister. She ended up needing a calming drought " Snape smiled cooly.

"Knowledge isn't everything. Some of what you know is- Mr. Potter!" Harry started from reading the list of ingredients that were in his book to look at his Professor, wondering what it was Snape would accuse him of doing wrong this time, the git.

"Mr. Potter," came the silky smooth voice that promised a long and unpleasant detention sometime in the very near future, "what about your book do you find so much more important than what I am saying up here?"

Snickers from the Slytherin side of the classroom could be heard while Harry caught the looks of sympathy from the Gryffindors.

"Er, nothing sir." Harry mumbled more to himself than to his professor knowing that by saying anything would lead to points being deducted.

"Twenty points for failing to pay attention to the professor as they are teaching and another ten for mumbling when asked a question. Speak up, Potter!"

"I. Said. Nothing. _Sir_." Harry said through clenched teeth, stressing every word in a manner that would be called defiant.

"I told you on the first day of lessons last year Mr. Potter, that I would not tolerate any of your cheek! Now I suggest you pay attention to my lecture before you find that you've lost more points for your house and landed a week's worth of detention." The hook-nosed man said back just as softly and mocking as he always did when speaking to Harry.

Glaring mutinously at Snape, who thankfully had decided to quit picking on him for the moment and went back to his lecture Harry dared not look at his open book again for fear of losing more points for his house. And paid extra close attention to Snape's lecture so that he could actually understand what they were asked to do for once.

Any day was a good day when the Gryffindors walked out of Potions losing only thirty points, as Snape really didn't need an excuse to dock points from their house, but Harry thought it really wasn't fair that McGonagall didn't show preferable treatment to her house to help them win back the points they lost in Potions.

With Hermione paired up with Neville Longbottom, which left Harry and Ron stuck struggling to help each other correctly brew the potion. Fortunately, Snape had allowed them to assist each other due to the complexity of the potion and so Ron and Harry were free to talk among themselves softly as to not draw attention to themselves.

"I hate Snape." Ron grouched. "Did you see the way the git looked when he was telling us about that girl? Wonder who it was…"

"I don't know. Do you really think that Snape would give someone a failing mark if their results didn't turn out the way they thought? Sure that seems like a thing he'd do, but it just doesn't seem fair."

"It's Snape, mate. He's hardly fair to us Lions." Ron said while carefully adding diced dragon liver to the simmering potion. "'sides, it's not like will ever need to brew this potion again. I mean, you look like your dad and I have the trademark Weasley hair." A light red hue colored Ron's ears at the mention of his fiery red hair.

"I know. Can you believe Hermione thinks it's odd that I took so much after dad and hardly anything after mum? At least physically I mean. I'm sure loads of people take after one parent more so than another."

Ron didn't look as concerned about it as Harry had, instead the red-head rolled his eyes at their more studious friend. "She's _mental_ , I tell you."

Harry nodded in silent agreement...but what _if_ Lily and James weren't his parents. It could be possible, couldn't it? He guessed the potion would tell him one way or another. Although he did feel foolish for questioning who his parents were, his mum and dad had both sacrificed their lives for him, and not just anybody would go around doing that for a stranger. Beside's it was his mother's love that had saved him after all.

The rest of the class was spent brewing in relative silence...up until the point where Neville's cauldron exploded sending all its content across the room. Some of it landed in Harry's mouth by freak chance as he had opened his mouth to let out an exclamation at the sudden noise.

"You foolish boy!" Snape thundered once the smoke had cleared up enough for him to make his way over to the two drenched second-year students.

"What part of the word "complex" is too complex for you to comprehend Mr. Longbottom? And Ms. Granger! Why did you not tell him to add the Eye of a Newt _before_ stirring counterclockwise? Twenty-five points each from both of you for sheer-"  
"Sir!"  
"-lack of-"  
"Professor!"  
" _Harry!"_ "Professor Snape!" Half of the Gryffindor class shouted at Severus while the other half was looking past him while the Slytherin side snickered behind their hands a jeered at the Potter brat.

When Snape refused to act, Hermione actually got out of her seat and ran past him causing Snape to spin around and looked at Harry who had gone pale and was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"Mr. Potter. Tell me, are you allergic to any of the ingredients in the potion?" Snape said in a soft, dangerous tone. These senseless acts of outbreaks would be put to a stop, starting with the Potter offspring, but first he had to do his duty as a potion's master and make sure the kid hadn't ingested anything harmful.

"No, but-"

"No, _sir._ The answer this Mr. Potter, did you think you are above my authority and disrupt _my_ class whenever you feel like it just because you are the prophesied "Boy-Who-Lived"?

"No, sir but-"

"Then _why_ , Mr. Potter, do you _think_ that you can interrupt my class _if_ you are not in need of _assistance of any kind_?" Snape growled out while stalking forward ready to snatch the piece of parchment the irritating brat was holding out before him like he was afraid the parchment would bite him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: SN and HP belong to their creators/publishers

* * *

With the piece of parchment held as far from him as possible, it told him the impossible.

It told him the improbable.

It did not tell him that his mother was Lily Lavender Potter or his father was James Hamish Potter. The two names on the paper were two different names entirely.

On the parchment, James' name had been replaced with John and Lily with Mary. The last name was also different. The last name was Winchester, not Potter.

But what did this mean? It couldn't be his. But it _was_ as James and Lily's name were right underneath their names. Whoever they were. The Winchesters.

Sure he'd consumed a small bit of the potion but that didn't mean anything, right? It was faulty, Hermione must've told Neville an incorrect step or something. This couldn't be his. It just couldn't be, in spite of the evidence proving that it _was_.

With desperate eyes, Harry looking pleadingly at Snape hoping he could provide the answers that he couldn't comprehend. To tell him anything. Sneer in his face, even, and call him a foolish boy for being so gullible as to believe, even for a second, that Lily and James weren't his parents.

He hoped that Snape would pull the proverbial carpet from under him and tell him that it was all a joke.

Snape did none of that though. Instead, Severus almost came to a grinding halt at the look of distress in Potter's eyes, almost. It was Potter's offspring after all and he wasn't going to fall for the doe-eyed look.

Ripping the parchment from the quivering boy's hand, Snape read the contents to see if he could find the source of the boy's distress.

 **Henry Winchester**

 **Parents:**

 _John Winchester_ (father)

 _Mary Winchester_ (mother) deceased

 **Blood Adopted Parents:**

 _James Potter_ (father) deceased

 _Lily Potter_ (mother) deceased

Snape stared intently at the results breathing deeply trying to anchor himself before he did something he would come to regret. The boy was still trembling like a leaf.

"Well. This is unexpected, to say the least. Mr. Malfoy, escort Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing and explain the situation to Madam Pomfrey. The rest of you had better get back to brewing. _Now._ "

Pocketing the slip of parchment the same time as Draco came sauntering along with a smirk on his face as he took in the shell-shocked Gryffindor, Snape muttered a warning, knowing that his arch nemesis' son was too out of it to fully comprehend what he was saying.  
"I want you to take him to the Hospital Wing, do you understand Draco?" Waiting for a nod, Snape continued. "I want you to tell her that Potter is in need of a calming draught. Then I want you to come directly back here. I do not want you staying in the Hospital Wing and bothering the Matron." Again he paused to make sure his godson understood what he was asking. When he was satisfied that the boy understood, Snape concluded. "I do not want to hear you causing any problems on the way there either. This is to remain between Mr. Potter and myself for now. You will do well to remember that and if I catch you pestering Mr. Potter you will lose more than just points for your house."  
And Draco could tell his godfather was serious. Now Draco was really confused. What had happened that had caused his own Godfather, the man who despised _all_ Gryffindors and most of all Potter, to suddenly request that Draco leave him alone? It didn't make sense, but Draco knew not to argue with Severus at this time.

Grabbing Potter's things, with half the mind of shoving it at the other boy for him to carry, Severus seemed to read his mind and gave him a warning look that caused Draco to change his mind.

Slugging Potter's things over his shoulder while wrapping his arm around his enemy, he helped the boy, who seemed to be completely withdrawn into himself, out of the classroom and to the hospital wing.

Half dragging his classmate through the halls and corridors of the castle was no easy task for the slightly older boy. While Harry was easily the shortest in their year, (some first years were taller than him), it still was hard for Draco to support someone only a half a stone or so lighter than himself.

When Draco finally made it up to the Hospital Wing, he felt as if he might need to stay for a bit to regain the breath he had lost. Man, who knew that scrawny Potty weighed so much?

Why couldn't Snape just have levitated him up to the Hospital Wing or conjured a stretcher? It would have been much easier.

Telling the Matron everything he knew, about Neville's cauldron, exploding and Harry going into his stupor Draco let the woman bustle around getting the potions he needed.

Harry was too absorbed in his thoughts to fight the calming draught that was coaxed down his throat followed quickly by a sleeping potion.

So many thoughts were going through Harry's head right now. Who was Henry Winchester? That couldn't be _him_ , right? I mean his name was _Harry_ , not _Henry_. And who was this John and Mary Winchester? What happened to them if they were his actual parents? Why had he been placed with the Dursley's and why had mum and dad, er, the Potter's adopted him?

Who were they? He had never heard of the name Winchester at Hogwarts or in _The Prophet_.

Were they muggles? Who were the Winchesters? Did Dumbledore know? Probably, Dumbledore knew everything. But why hadn't he told Harry?

And on and on the thoughts came. Each one left Harry feeling more and more confused until his confused mind finally succumbed to the potions that he'd been force fed.

After Pomfrey was sure Harry was settled in for the time being, she turned to Draco.

"If I cannot help you with anything Mr. Malfoy then I suggest you get back to class. Mr. Potter will be all right after a kip, no doubt."

With no other choice, Draco left the Hospital Wing with no more answers than he had when he arrived and slowly made his way back down to his Godfather's classroom.

He had been hoping that Madam Pomfrey would say something that would at least give away a hint as to why his nemesis was in such a dazed state, not that he _cared_ about Potter's wellbeing in any way, but you had to admit that it _was_ a bit unsettling to see the once irritating Gryffindor staring almost unseeingly back at you.

After the rest of the potions had finished simmering and had been bottled and labeled and Snape finally released class, Snape rushed out of the dungeon passing some of the straggling students on his way, sneering an insult or two at the Gryffindors and ignoring the Slytherin students.

Making his way to Dumbledore's office with Potter's results from the potion safely tucked away to show Dumbledore, he wasn't surprised to find the Headmaster already waiting for him.

"Severus, I wondered when you would come. Do you care for a Lemon Drop?"

"Not today," Snape said dryly. "I am here to inform you of what happened in today's class concerning a certain boy."

"Ah, yes I heard that Harry was taken to the Hospital Wing during your class today. How is he?"  
"The boy was simply in need of a calming draught. Longbottom's cauldron exploded and Potter ingested a bit of the potion that was shockingly correct no doubt Ms. Granger's doing."  
"Now, I am sure Mr. Longbottom is capable of brewing a potion correctly, my boy, given enough time and guidance. I feel that he might simply be a late bloomer."  
Severus couldn't help but snort. Longbottom correctly brewing a potion without the aid of the resident know-it-all was the day he awarded points to Gryffindor. In other terms, it was highly improbable.

"I wanted to show you the results of Mr. Potter's paternity test," Snape said refusing to comment on Albus' previous muse.

Taking the parchment from his inner robe, he handed it off to the headmaster who peered at it intently.

Dumbledore was silent for several minutes, causing Severus to get a bit...antsy, so to speak. If Severus Snape ever got antsy, that was. He wasn't a spy for nothing.

"It would seem," a long pause, followed, "that we were all misled about Mr. Potter's, or should I say Mr. Winchester's origins. This sadly doesn't change anything. He is still the one the Prophecy was about." Dumbledore said with a shake of his head with a heavy sigh.

"Are you planning and informing the boy's...father?"

"I believe we have no choice in the matter, my boy. Harry is the son of Mary and John Winchester."

"I have never heard of a purebred family by the surname of Winchester," Snape said cooly, not liking this a bit.

"Neither have I, but it does not matter. They are the closest family Harry has and so we will attempt to contact Mr. Winchester and if necessary, persuade him to take Harry. I wonder how this will impact the wards..." Dumbledore mused.

"Why can't the boy stay where he's at if you are so concerned with the wards? He is protected because of Lily's love, isn't he? Then he must stay where he's at. And I am sure those relative's of his are pampering him." Snape concluded with a curled lip.  
Dumbledore sighed albeit regretfully. "As much as I might like to agree with you on this Severus, I am afraid it is not that simple. Since it has been discovered that Harry was blood adopted there is no guarantee that the wards will be strong enough to keep Voldemort out. We would like to hope it would be, but in times like this, it does not hurt to be extra cautious. That and sometimes we have to do what is right regardless of how we might personally feel."

Dumbledore eyes board directly into Severus'. "You see what you want to see, Severus. But if you looked beyond Harry's physical appearance you will find that he is about as different from his adopted father as one could be. You might also be surprised to find that Harry doesn't live in a lap of luxury either at his relative's home.'

'Yes, I think I shall start with trying to locate these Winchester's and see if they would like to take Harry in."  
"Shouldn't you be asking for Potter's input in all of this?" Severus said with an arched brow desperate to change the subject. He didn't really care what happened to Potter, but he had sworn to protect the child.

"I suppose I should, but I believe Poppy still has him up in the Hospital Wing at the moment and I doubt she would appreciate me disturbing one of her patients," Dumbledore said with a particular glint in his eyes.

"I shall keep you informed, of course, of anything I might find." The wizened wizard finally continued. "Take care of yourself, my dear boy, and do stop by for tea sometime when you aren't busy."

Snape knowing a dismissal when he heard one sneered once more before leaving the headmaster's office.

* * *

After the house fire that had claimed his wife and infant son, Henry, over ten years ago, John could not bear the thought of setting down roots again and have his remaining sons taken away from him either, so as of that night, he'd loaded the boys in the car, managed to get whatever was salvageable and took off into the night like a bat out of hell.

They had constantly been on the move hoping to track down and kill the demon who'd taken his wife from him and the life of his baby boy before he'd even had a chance to live it.

He'd been so eaten up with rage, grief, and hatred that he'd unintentionally ignored his other two sons. It wasn't intentional, but that was just the way their lives had turned out.

He was sure Dean and Sam had suffered from the death of their mother and the lifestyle they'd adopted after the fire, but at least they had Bobby.

What he would do without his old hunter friend, John honestly had no idea. Bobby had been a friend of his and Mary for as long as he could remember and had offered his place up if any of them needed to crash from time to time.

More times over the years than John could count he'd taken Bobby up on that offer. This was another one of those times.

"Wake Sam up. We will be at Bobby's in a few minutes." John grunted as he steered the Impala down another road that headed towards Bobby's place.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up. We're about there." Dean turned around while shaking Sam awake.

"Uh, what?"

"Wake up, Sammy," Dean said again while making sarcastic kisses into the air.

"Cut it out Dean, and Sam I want you awake when we get there and help Dean get the bags."  
"Yes, sir," Sam sighed.

When the old Impala finally pulled up to Bobby's two-story home John threw it in park and cut ignition off before opening the car door and walking the short walk to Bobby's house.

From there he disappeared inside the house with Bobby in tow, leaving Dean and Sam to carry in their belongs.


	3. Chapter 3

McGonagall was many things, a master in Transfiguring, an animagus, a fearless woman and she was a woman who could not easily be talked into doing something without knowing the repercussions.

In a highly unusual notion, Dumbledore, more out of a whim than anything had requested that his longtime friend come to his office.

Still studying the paper before him, he went through his standard greeting and offered her one of his beloved Lemon Drops. The aging witch really was too strict and stern and needed something a bit sweeter to soften her up, alas, all he had was Lemon Drops to offer.

"No, thank you," McGonagall said tartly.

Sighing for he could not stall any longer, Dumbledore sat down again and held up the parchment for the umpteenth time.

"Severus, as you know was teaching the second years how to brew a simple paternity potion as he does every year around this time."  
"I am aware of Severus' curriculum. I have the Gryffindor's right after his class and they fill me in on what happens during his classes. I do suggest you ask him to stop deducting quite so many points from my house. I realize they can be a bit chatty sometimes, but I doubt they talk so much where it is necessary to take fifty points a lesson!"

"Ah, but you know Severus as well as I do, Minerva. He has his reasons."

"I dare call house rivalry a reason to take points off of my house, Albus! I take points off Slytherin, yes, but you will also find that I have taken just as many points, if not more, at times, from my own house. I must insist that you talk to him and make him see reason, for I cannot."  
"Severus will do what Severus wants to do, I am afraid, but I shall have a word with him after I tell you what transpired in his class today. Assuming the children did not tell you the particulars?

"No, they did not. And I would _assume_ that it had something to do with Potter? He was not in class today."  
"Yes, I believe Severus had Mr. Malfoy escort the poor boy to the hospital wing. He received a rather unfortunate fright in Severus' class after Mr. Longbottom's cauldron exploded."

"That boy…" she said shaking her head in resignation. "I heard Severus talk of his performance in his class, he's managed to explode more cauldrons in the two years he's been here than those Weasley twins have managed in their four years combined. Which was, something I thought until now, was unattainable."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in humor.

"Mr. Longbottom might not be the most inept wizard this school has ever seen in brewing a potion, but I doubt the boy truly met any harm. As for Harry, I am afraid that it did cause more harm than it did good. I do not doubt that a simple calming drought will be all the boy needs before all this is worked out, however, I am sure Poppy will have whatever else he might need on hand."  
"What do you mean?" Minerva inquired peering sternly at her employer.

"It would appear that Mr. Potter, is not actually a Potter after all."  
"I beg your pardon!" the witch exclaimed in shock.

"This is a shock to all of us, but I will have Poppy or myself perform a more in-depth scan to make certain that Harry, is actually Henry."  
"Henry? Is that the poor boy's biological name? I suppose it is not too far off from Harry, many people have actually used Harry as a nickname for Henry. But what happened? Why did we not know? Who is the boy's parents, if not Lily and James?"

"We may never know, but James did come from a long line of purebred witches and wizards so it was possible…"  
"Are you saying that James couldn't produce an heir?"

"We will never know for sure, but yes, I suspect that might be the reason behind this."  
"Oh, Albus, but what do we do? The poor boy-"  
"We will take this one step at a time for now. He knows, he saw the paper."  
"What was his last name?" Minerva asked, almost not wanting an answer.

"Winchester."

"I haven't heard of that surname before. Winchester."  
"Neither have I," Dumbledore admitted to his old friend once again.

McGonagall was left to think as Albus went to the floo to contact Poppy.

Once he was done McGonagall voiced the same question as Severus did earlier. "Will we be contacting these Winchesters? I suppose to be on the safe side, it will have to be done through muggle means. I mean surely they would have to be better for Harry than his current relatives, witch, wizard, or muggle. I am convinced that they treat him horribly."  
"How so? Harry has never mentioned anything to me."  
"I remember the night Lily and James were murdered. I went to their house and watched them all the following day. They were rude to everyone. She spoilt their son, I cannot imagine what he must be like now. If I recall correctly, we had a difficult time giving Mr. Potter his letter. You sent Hagrid to personally hand him the letter. Hagrid said that Mr. Dursley attempted to deny Harry's right, and refused to pay so much as a knut for him. I told you then what awful people they were and I believe that nothing has changed. I noticed this year at the Welcoming Feast that he appeared to be a lot thinner and didn't eat nearly as much as he had during the end of last term."

Dumbledore stayed silent, he remembered Harry, or Henry as he supposed he should refer to the young man now, _had_ come to him at the end of last term. Begging, pleading almost, to be allowed to spend the summer months here at Hogwarts rather than to be returned to his relatives. Maybe he should have checked in on Harry then, but he'd been convinced that Harry was being well cared for. Now, so many years later, it would be proved to be the contrary.

Perhaps, just this once, he should have listened to Minerva. He couldn't change the past, for if he could Merlin knows he would, but he could start with the present. And it was presently, that he would start.

* * *

John was sitting in a recliner in Bobby's living room reading one of Bobby's many books when an abrupt knock came from the front door.

John raised an eyebrow at Bobby, wondering who the hell it might be at this time of night. The boys never knocked, they just came walking in.

The knocking sound came again, this time more firmly and demanding.

Resigning to the fact that whoever their late-night caller was, wasn't going away Bobby got up and hollered impatiently. "I'ma coming."

A few moments later John heard the door open and he could hear a mumble of voices, but could not make anything in particular out.

A minute later, Bobby came back with a stern looking woman trailing behind him. Her hair was graying and pulled up into a tight bun. She was wearing an emerald dress and gold-framed glasses.

"Mr. Winchester." The woman greeted briskly.

"Ma'am," John responded with forced politeness. He really wanted nothing other than to ask the woman who she was and what she wanted from him but he supposed he should be polite about it, at least until she gave him reason otherwise.  
Sensing the man's edginess, she addressed the room at large. "I am Minerva McGonagall. I am a professor at the school your son currently attends."  
John bristled, full of suspicion now. "I did not know college professors made it a habit to visit families of their students."  
"I beg your pardon?" The woman questioned surprised at his accusation. This made John even more suspicious. Was the woman lying to him? Was she even a professor like she claimed?

"Listen here, I don't know who you are or what you are trying to do but I do doubt you are a teacher at my son's school. I might not have a fancy degree myself, but I know enough about my boys, and life, in general, to know that college professors don't just make impromptu visits with their student's families."  
"Mr. Winchester, I did not realize- I wasn't informed you had another son, I am here about Henry Winchester," McGonagall said.

John and Bobby both froze. They stared at the woman in utter shock. Bobby hadn't heard that name in years, as it had almost become taboo to talk about the newborn who had perished alongside his mother in the blaze.

John was filled in rage, and stood up, towering over the woman. "I don't know what tricks you have up your sleeves, but I ain't-a fool." He growled like a feral animal. "You are mistaken. There is no Henry Winchester here. At least not anymore. Henry was killed over ten years ago in a house fire."  
"Normally, I would apologize for your loss, but you see, your son, is very much alive and as of until recently, well." The woman said almost severely. She wasn't some old woman who could be intimidated.

John sat down.

"I just found out that one of my students was, in fact, your son and not the son of two good friends of mine. Rest assured, that this was just as much of a shock to us as it is to you. I do not know, how or why Mr. Winchester or ourselves were fooled all of these years, but I assure you that Mr. P-, Winchester, is your son." McGonagall said calmly refusing to allow the muggle to throw her out before she said what she had to say.

"I want proof that this is my son. I refuse to hear any more about this until I have proof that this child is Henry."

"Certainly," McGonagall said drily, carefully procured a heavy, official-looking document that she had skillfully transfigured to look like an official paternity test results. She had decided to do it beforehand in the event that these people were unfamiliar with magic.

The man held the paper and looked at the information. It didn't have much on the document, but it did claim that Henry was his and Mary's son.  
John swallowed hard. He was just about ready to say something when the front door opened with a loud bang, momentarily startling him and Bobby and he heard the loud voice of Dean carry into the room. He was arguing about something.

"In here boys," John said gruffly to the two younger men who had just come back from a dinner.

"Hey, Bobby." One of them with hair similar to the unkempt mess that Harry had always worn said.

"Sir," the other shorter one said. McGonagall could tell though that the taller of the two males was the youngest, one of them had to be Sam, the boy who was attending a muggle university she concluded, pleased that she would be able to meet the whole family instead of just the father.

She was not willing to make the same mistake twice and leave Harry, or Henry with someone she didn't feel would take care of him. Although, no Dumbledore, she was fairly good at judging people. Call it a sixth sense if you will.

"These are my two," John faltered a bit before continuing, "other boys, Dean and Sam." John continued to read and reread the paper she'd given him trying to make sense of what it was saying but not quite able to wrap his mind around the fact that Henry was alive.

"What is the likelihood that this is all some mistake? That he is not my son?"  
"Dad, what?-" Sam asked cluelessly looking at Dean with wide eyes to validate he had just heard what he thought he had. First, his dad was referring him as his "other boys" and then claiming that there might be a mistake.

"What he means is, what are you talking about? Sam and I are the only two son's you have. Remember?"

Minerva smiled at the younger man's antics. "There is no mistake, Mr. Winchester. We made sure of that before I came over here to inform you."  
"So you're telling me that Henry, somehow managed to survive the blaze that killed his mother?" John said in a rare state of disbelief.

"Or are you going to tell us mom managed to survive that too?" Dean muttered sarcastically not really believing this woman for a minute. He didn't even know her, and here she was sitting in Bobby's living room telling his father that his baby bro was alive.

Sure.

John shot Dean a glare while Sam punched him.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester, that is what I am telling you," Minerva said while eying John's eldest sternly.  
"Does he, Henry, know? About this? About me, I mean?" Why was he finding it so difficult to talk all of a sudden? It was as if he had suddenly lost the ability to form coherent multisyllabic complex sentences.

"Yes," The elderly woman said slowly, "Or so we believe he does."  
"What is that suppose to mean? He either knows or he doesn't! You did not perform this paternity test without his permission did you?" John accused sharply not liking any of this one bit. If this woman did something-  
"We did no such thing, Mr. Winchester. I believe, Mr. Potter, knew what he was doing leading up to the test results, however shortly before the results were delivered, something happened and that made the results come at an inopportune time. Mr. Potter took ill a few minutes later."  
"What?" John questioned, confused. Nothing that she had just said made any sense whatsoever to him.

"Mr. Potter took the paternity test and got the results following a slight mishap. A mishap, that has since been dealt with I assure you. I regret to say that Mr. Potter became poorly moments after getting the results and was sent to be checked out by the school nurse. He should have recovered nicely by now."

"Who the heck is Potter?" Dean asked from his position on the couch beside his brother Sam. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. Potter was Henry, obviously.

"Potter, is, was his adopted parent's surname." The woman said with a tone of sadness. She had mentioned she'd known the couple.

"What do you mean _was_?" John asked he couldn't help himself. He wanted to know all about the people who had raised his son, they could have been the very ones to have taken his little boy from him after all. "Where are they now?"

"Lily and James Potter were two of the best people I had the honor of knowing. I actually taught them myself many years ago and attended their wedding. I know Lily loved Harry as her own and James too. They treated him as a son and I declare, I don't think I ever once saw a frown on that boy's face. He was a happy baby and adored both Lily and James. Harry looked so much like James that it was impossible not to think they were related."  
"Okay, that's nice and all but when are we going to meet these Potter's? And when are we going to meet Henry." Dean said impatiently ignoring the nudge from Sam or the stern look from Bobby. Focusing on the defeated posture of his father, who appeared to not be handling the fact that his son had come to see another couple as his parents rather than John or even Mary.

"The Potter's, Lily and James, I mean were killed on Halloween night in a home invasion many years ago. Somehow, Harry, who was just a toddler at the time survived this too. We don't know how, but we have our theories."  
"Where did he go then? Why not return him to us?" Sam asked, speaking up for the first time in a while.

"Like I said, we just found this out ourselves, Harry,-"  
"His name's Henry!" Snapped John, getting tired of the woman's attempt at calling his son Harry. They'd named him Henry, goddamn it, not Harry! He didn't want someone renaming his child.

"Henry was someone else besides a Potter. We have just as many questions as you do. If we'd known about this sooner, we would have contacted you. If anyone wanted Ha-Henry to go and live with another family, it would have been me."  
"Sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me," Dean muttered to himself, growing tired of the woman's insistence that she never knew anything or how much his younger brother apparently looked like his adopted father. What about his biological father? Didn't he look anything like John Winchester, or was it just this other guy, James Potter that his youngest brother, who managed to come back from the dead, resembled? Henry was supposed to be his brother

"Where did he go?" Bobby reiterated Sam's earlier question.

"He was sent to his closest living relatives."  
"Which should have been us," Dean said angrily that they had spent the last decade thinking that their brother or son was dead when really he'd been living the whole time, somewhere else.

But he had not gone to the Winchesters, he'd gone somewhere else and something about the way the woman talked about the "somewhere else" made her opinion clear about how she felt about these "relatives" who lived "somewhere else".


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: SN and HP belong to their creators/publishers.

* * *

Harry regained consciousness easily enough. He would though, with Dreamless Sleep, once the potion wore off, you woke up. His eyes fluttering for a second or two before snapping open, he heard someone sucking in a breath, before a warm hand grasped his.

"Oh, Harry! Ron and I have been so worried! Even the Professors have been by to check on you but Madam-"  
"Oh good, Mr. Potter, you're awake." the Mediwitch came bustling in at the sound of a raised voice.

"You suffered quite a shock Mr. Potter, but you'll be fine. I'd feel better if you remained here until supper, but since there is nothing else wrong with you, I suppose… _After_ I give you a final check over, you may leave and go directly to the Headmaster's office. And not a moment before, understand? I can always keep you here until after supper" The Matron tutted, all too used to children trying to sneak their way out before she would allow it.

"I feel fine, Madam Pomfrey. Can I go now?" Harry begged. He really couldn't even remember what shocking event had landed him in the hospital wing, to begin with, and he did feel fine. One would think she was holding a caged animal against its will rather than a sick or injured child. The mediwitch nodded absently at him while carefully reading at the results of the spell she had cast. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she saw, she handed him his robes, that she had stored somewhere while he'd been asleep and ushered Ron and Hermione out so that he could change.

Quickly, Harry changed out of the pajamas, while outside of the curtains, Hermione attempted to pepper Madam Pomfrey with questions.

"Will he _really_ be all right?"  
"Of course, he will be."  
"But he collapsed..." Hermione said, unconvinced. She was worried about Harry.

Logically, Madam Pomfrey would release Harry back to the dorms, insisting that he not go to classes for the rest of the day, that did make Hermione feel better.

"Miss. Granger, are you questioning my ability to judge my patient's-"  
Thankfully for Hermione, she was cut off as Harry stepped around the curtain.

"I can go now, right?" Harry said anxiously, although he tried not to show it. He liked Madam Pomfrey, really he did, but she could be overbearing at times.

"You may go but I want you to take this before you go to bed tonight. It's something that will help you sleep. It is not dreamless sleep, but it should have a similar effect. Now, I think it would be best if you went directly to the Headmaster's office. The password is Chocolate Frogs." The good witch said while pushing the three second years out of the infirmary.

Harry didn't need any more encouragement and fled the wing as to put as much distance between him and the Matron as possible, leaving Ron and Hermione, calling after him.

He was curious as to why the Headmaster wanted to see him so he after telling the gargoyle the password, he went up and hesitantly walked past Fawkes who trilled in greeting.

"Good afternoon there young Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry smiled at him before noticing his head of house and Professor Snape present as well. The smile died on his lips."Care for a lemon drop?"

"No thanks," Harry muttered, looking worriedly back and forth between this two Professors and the Headmaster.

Professor McGonagall gave him a tight-lipped smile while the potions master lip curled slightly. Not as much as usual though, Harry noted.

"Sit down, my boy. We have a couple of matters to discuss. Nothing we can't work through, I assure you, Harry." Dumbledore said kindly when Harry looked at the Potions Master who was sending him a piercing look. It does, however, concern today's events in Professor Snape's class. Do you remember what happened?"  
"Er, no. Sorry." Harry said although he felt like he did know. He knew, that it was big, but he couldn't remember what.

"You were asked to brew a simple paternity test." The wizened man said in an attempt to jog Harry's memories. It worked.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He remembered now. He wasn't a Potter he was a Winchester. Merlin!

"No need for that now Harry. Professor McGonagall has just come back from meeting Mr. Winchester and your brothers, they live in America. Professor McGonagall thinks that they would provide better-suited living arrangements this summer than the Dursley's, it could be arranged for you to stay with them."  
Harry's eyes widened and looked at his head of house, she looked back at him while the Headmaster handed him a piece of parchment, the same parchment he had held just hours earlier, in Snape's class. He looked at it as his professor spoke.

"It's true Harry. Mr. Winchester and I met in person while you were still in the infirmary. He is anxious to see you again." The elderly woman said kindly.

"But what about the Dursley's? I thought because of the wards…."  
Harry looked at the adults in the room. Dumbledore had said only last year that he was safest in their care.

"The wards could still protect you, as the Potter's most obviously blood adopted you, however, I think you would be just as safe in America as you would be spending the summer with Lily's sister and her family. You begged me last year before summer term not to send you back to the Dursley's. I would have no other option, but to do just that again this year if you chose not to stay with the Winchesters."

"But the wards…how did they work when I am not actually..."

"I fear that is another one of life's mysteries, Harry. Love is amongst the strongest forces on earth." The man said cheerfully. while picking himself out a lemon drop.  
"Can I... can I think about it, sir?" Harry whispered he really didn't want to spend the summer doing chores, but the thought of having a father and brothers, a family, was a lot to take in at the moment. He'd gone from being an unwanted orphan to a son in a matter of hours. He had a father whom he didn't even remember and knew nothing about. Brothers too.

"Certainly, Harry. No one is asking you to make a decision now. If you want, you can write them a letter, introducing yourself. They are muggles and American at that, so there are different rules to abide by concerning muggles, so McGonagall could not inform them of who we are, but I am sure we can arrange it so that any correspondence between you and the Winchesters will be received."

"Thank you, sir. I-I think I will go and write them a letter now."  
"Of course Mr. Potter. Your father's name is John and your brothers are Dean and Sam. They are both older than you, but they seem like polite young men. If you need help figuring out what to say, my office door is open. Give me the letter, once you are finished and I will see that it gets delivered." Harry nodded in understanding and quickly left the Headmaster's office.

Stumbling down the steps, he blindly made his way through the stairways and corridors to the common room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

"So what did Dumbledore want? Was it about Snape's class today?" Ron asked eagerly as soon as he saw Harry.

"Ron! It's _Professor_ Dumbledore and _Professor_ Snape"  
"I don't want to talk about it right now guys," Harry mumbled just before Neville came rushing up to him.

"Harry! I am so sorry. I didn't mean for the cauldron to explode! I swear I don't know what happened. I thought with Hermione helping me, I'd actually get it right this time," cue nervous laughter. "Are you okay? P-professor Snape was really mad, and I lost the house fifty points. I am so sorry Harry, I didn't mean to. Honest!"

"It's okay, Nev," Harry said, but it was half-hearted at best. Harry was too worried about what he was going to say to the Winchester's. He'd didn't even know where to begin.

"Oh, okay. If you say so, Harry. Hey Harry? What _did_ happened in Professor Snape's class after the cauldron exploded?"

"Nothing. I just want to be alone right now guys okay? I'll see you for dinner." And with that Harry trudged up the stairs and into the boy's dormitory leaving behind a confused Neville a worried Ron and an upset Hermione who was going to follow Harry had Ron not stopped her just in time. "Let him go 'mione."

Digging through his stuff, he managed to pull out a piece of parchment and a quill pen along with some ink. Setting it down in the window seat, he perched up on the bench and stared out onto the snow-laden grounds hoping dejectedly, that he would find some sort of inspiration out there. Turns out, unless he had a strong desire to talk about the Scottish winter, there was little outside that was going to help him write the letter.

Harry sighed, he'd have to do it sometime.

 _Dear Mr. Winchester and Family,_

No, too impersonal, this was supposed to be a letter to his family. His father and brothers, but they were strangers, and this was his first letter to them, so how was this letter supposed to be personal? Besides, it wasn't like he had a whole lot of practice writing letters. Usually, the only time he got to write was during the Christmas Holidays when Hermione and Ron were with their families because during the summer months he was forbidden to make any contact with "those freaks".

Harry tried again,

 _Mr. Winchester and sons,_

No. No. No. That wasn't any good either. Why couldn't Harry come up with a good way to address this letter? He could always address it to his _dad_ but Harry didn't want to replace his dad, James Potter, like that. At least, not yet.  
After several other attempts at making a less formal address, Harry finally gave in. It would have to be a formal one because Harry didn't know any other way to address his father or brothers.

 _Dear sir,_

Because that was a safe bet. People liked to be addressed as sir and ma'am.

 _You probably don't know who I am or why I am writing, but I am your son, Henry Winchester. My professors said that I should write to you and introduce myself since I just found out that you are my father and because we don't know anything about each other. So, er, here goes._

 _I like to go by Harry and I am twelve years old. I am currently in my second year at the boarding school I attend. It's located in Scotland, but I live in Surrey with my aunt and uncle during the summer months…._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _... I don't know when this will reach you because of the distance, but Professor McGonagall promised that you would write back. So um, I guess I will wait to hear back from you._

 _Harry_

Harry read over the letter multiple times wondering how the Winchesters would react to receiving a letter instead of a telephone call or an email. Maybe, his professor had explained.

Folding the letter carefully, he walked out of the dormitory. In the common area, he saw Hermione had convinced Ron to work on some homework, but it didn't look like Ron was trying too hard. Harry smiled slightly when Ron noticed him and leaped from his chair with an exclamation. "Harry!"  
"Hey, Ron."

"Do you want to walk with me while I deliver the letter to Professor McGonagall and we could walk down to the Great Hall together?"

"Sure. You comin' Hermione?"  
"I'll meet you down there." Was the only thing Hermione said, as she was nose deep in some text. Some things never changed.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged.

"So mate, gonna tell me what happened this morning in Snape's class or is it a secret," Ron said as soon as they were out of earshot from Hermione. Harry winced, of course, Ron would want to know.

"Well, I…" Harry said nervously and twitched. He didn't twitch. Must be nerves.

"Um, kind turns out that the Potter's weren't you know..."  
Ron stopped and looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"Blimey, mate. Are you sure? I mean you look so much like your father, er, I mean James, that..."

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall actually met up with um, them, today after Snape's class."

"Oh, what'd she think of them, because if they are anything like your current relatives-" Ron started but shushed when Snape rounded the corner. He sent them both a piercing look but otherwise ignored them.

"I think they want me to spend the summer with them."  
"Oh, that's good," Ron said obviously relieved. "because I think mum wanted to try to take you in for at least a couple of weeks."  
"That's nice of her," Harry said sincerely as they approached their Professor's office. Fortunately, the door was open meaning she hadn't left for the Great Hall yet, but Harry still hovered unsurely outside her office.

"Come in Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

"Professor." Both said, slightly abashed at being caught but the woman didn't seem to mind.

Harry held out the parchment for his professor to take but retracted it slightly when a look of surprise passed over her face.

"Have you written it already Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am. I wasn't sure what to write so I did as you suggested." Harry said anxiously. Once he gave it to her, she'd send it to his father. Now that he was here with the letter, he wasn't sure if he wanted to communicate with his dad. He'd just found out today. It was much too early. He didn't know if he could give her the letter. If he did and Mr. Winchester replied, then is solidified the fact that Lily and James weren't his parents.

"Harry," Minerva said softly while shooting Ron a look that told him to go ahead to the Great Hall.

"Harry sit down."

Harry sat numbly down, staring intently at his hands.

"Harry, I want you to listen to me. Do you want me to send this letter right now? I understand that you just found out about Mr. Winchester and his other sons. If it's too much too soon, we can wait. I told Mr. Winchester that you would probably be in contact with him, but none of us expect you to have a letter written so soon." The witch said softly. While she had plenty of time to be disappointed that Harry wasn't James' and Lily's son, now was not the time to dwell on the fact. Their adopted son needed her, and she would not fail in their memory.

"It's okay, you can go ahead and send it," Harry said without much enthusiasm.

"Are you sure?" She must have been unconvinced.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, Mr. Potter if you are sure. I will see that it goes out first thing in the morning." Harry nodded before getting up.  
"Mr. Potter, before you go, I need to catch you up on what you missed in today's class. It was nothing but notes, I am sure Miss. Granger's notes are detailed enough but if there is something you are confused about, know that my office is always open for you." Somehow, through the muddled of thoughts that were running through Harry's brain, he understood the unspoken words behind her offer.

He offered her a small smile in return.

"Come now, Mr. Potter. We best not keep Mr. Weasley or Miss. Granger waiting."

* * *

Back at Bobby's the Winchester's were left to their own thoughts. Each of them was handling the news of their youngest brother or son being alive.

"What I don't understand is why are they coming to us now and telling us this?" Dean said to the room at large.

Sam sighed. Was he the only one excited about the fact that his baby bro had survived that night?

"'Cause they just found out about us."  
"I heard that! It's just how do we know it isn't a trap or something? How do we know that that woman is telling the truth? That he actually survived?"

"I offered her holy water kid, you saw yourself, nothing happened. Silver and salt didn't affect her either. If that woman is somethin' evil, it's nothing we've ever encountered before."  
"I wasn't saying she was setting a trap, or that she was a demon or anything," Dean said aggressively. "I heard her say that the school was located in Scotland. How could Henry be all the way in Scotland, when we live here? How did he find out about us? You never went to Scotland did you?"

"I don't know Dean. Maybe he'll explain it in that letter he's going to be sending us. And no, I've never been to Scotland or England."  
"Why don't they just use a computer and send us an email? It's faster and more modern and that way we don't have to wait around for the letter. What if we aren't even here by the time it arrives?" Dean huffed. What kind of archaic school did his brother go to? I mean, what school enforced a letter-writing policy nowadays anyway.

"You heard that that Professor said, the school is one of the oldest school in Scotland and some elements they try to preserve and I am sure Bobby would hold the letter for us."  
"And one of those things they are trying to preserve is letter writing?" Dean said sarcastically.

"I think it's nice that they are trying to teach kids how to write a letter and how to address an envelope. It's a life skill, you know. Not everything can be sent by a computer."  
"Sam?" Dean looked at him with his bitch-face.

"Yeah."  
"Shut up. Not everyone's a nerd like you and can understand what school wants to spend time teaching twelve-year-olds how to write a letter."  
"If that school of his wants them to write letters then we will wait until the letter arrives and then we will respond with our own letter," John said not even bothering to on to Sam or Dean for their constant bickering.  
"Are you being serious right now? Because there is no way I am going to write him a letter telling him about myself, when I could just call him up and talk to him on the phone or Sammy could send him an email." Dean asked, clearly not amused that he would be reduced to writing letters in this day in age just to communicate to his kid brother.

"Just because your penmanship sucks and you don't know how to write, much less address an actual letter, doesn't mean the rest of us to have to suffer through your complaining, besides I don't know his email address." Sam snarked back.

"If he even has one. Probably doesn't and that's why we are having to use snail mail."

"Enough! Dean, you are going to write your brother a letter, and I mean handwrite him one- like he is taking time away from his studies to do- no typing it up and printing it out. And Sam, stop messing with your brother. God! I don't know if I can handle another son if he's going to be like you two." John groaned.

Hey Dad, is it normal for schools to teach twelve-year-olds DNA profiling?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: SN and HP belong to their creators/publishers.

 **Warning(s) and Notes about this chapter:** Please Read

First of all, some things mentioned in this chapter are of no reflection to _In Flanders Fields_ personal beliefs.

Secondly, I know that James Potter never lived long enough in J.K. Rowling's books to hold a job outside of Hogwarts, but considering the events are pushed back 10 or so years, he had to have some kind of backstory/job description.

I am also aware that the MoM pays the tuition to Hogwarts but I have my reasons for including what I do.

* * *

True to John's word, the Winchester's put down what seemed to be semi-permanent roots at Bobby's- and at least until the promised letter arrived, there was no talk about going on anymore hunts. Bobby, in his credit, didn't seem to mind the extra company too much. Even if only for the fact that he was just as curious about the Henry as the rest of them were.

Emotions ran high during that week but all that was forgotten as they stared at the thick piece of parchment paper John held in his hand.

"This, hands-down, has to be the strangest school ever," Dean said eyeing the parchment paper warily. "Who uses parchment these days? I bet he wrote this with a quill pen using nothing more than candlelight."  
"I don't know about the candlelight part, but I'd say you're spot on about the quill pen," Bobby said examining the addressed letter.

This school's "traditions" were getting stranger and stranger, if that was the case.

John looked carefully at the address that was on the front of the envelope. He wanted Sam to type the address into his computer so that he could get an idea of what his son's boarding school looked like. Although he knew it was located in Scotland, he knew nothing else about the school, or why Henry went to that particular school when there was surely a school that would have suited him just fine in Surrey. Hopefully, this letter would address some of these questions.

When Sam had looked up the address, at first he could find very little about the school. At first, Sam found nothing about the school, not deterred, Sam continued to search.

After much clicking and scrolling, Sam finally found a promising, if not a bit vague, lead:

"Located in a castle on the Scottish Highlands, the school is thought to be one of the oldest schools still in use today. It is known throughout the UK and Europe for its exclusive one-of-a-kind education and for being one of the most selective schools in the UK, however, 'sister schools,' or schools with a similar application process, and curriculum do exist.'

'The cost of tuition per term is unknown, however, all seven years of tuition is covered in full by scholarship. The requirements of the scholarship and the application process is not immediately available, only that the scholarship must be awarded for a child to attend. The school has served generations of the same prominent families within the UK and will proudly continue to serve those same families for generations to come, however, in recent years, the school has seen a growth of students who come from working-class families. It is unclear if the school's Board of Governors or the current Headmaster/Head Mistress decides the new class each year.'

'It is not unheard of for the wealthy families to set up an education fund for their child/children to use during their time at the school as all school supplies as well as any extracurricular items and any outside excursions allowed by the school are not covered by tuition."

At the end of the passage, Sam stopped reading and thought about what he'd just read.

"Wow! I can't believe he actually sleeps and attends classes in a _castle_!" Sam marveled, deeply impressed at the sound of such a grand school. An actual castle, Henry's school was located an actual castle. Sam wanted to believe it was like a full-fledged Medieval one complete with towers and probably a dungeon, not some modern-day replica of one. He was not a sappy romantic (no matter what Dean said) but the thought of going to a boarding school that was located within the walls of an actual castle… Wow!

"Bet it would be a dream come true for you, Princess," Dean grouched, but he couldn't believe it either. Just how well off were Henry's deceased adoptive parents for them to be able to afford to send him to a goddamn school that was located inside a freaking castle? They must have been loaded.

John hated to admit it, was thinking along those same lines. He was impressed, with the Sam had managed to find in his research. What very little information the internet offered sure made it out to be an exclusive school that educated multiple generations of some of the wealthiest and most noble families in the UK. He would have been hard pressed, not to be impressed with information like that, particularly when it was one of his son's that was receiving an education that he would never be able to afford.

John wondered if the Potter's had arranged funds to make sure Henry went to the school as the woman had mentioned that it had been both of the Potter's had attended. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had. If they had that much money to set aside for seven years of schooling for a kid that wasn't even biologically there's, John felt that he should be grateful that the Potter's had at least attempted to give his son as good of an education as money could apparently buy- if the story on the internet was anything to buy into.

He thought that some of what the school seemed to focus on was weird and unnecessary but he was comparing it to the U.S. school system. He knew nothing about what kind of school system they had over there in the UK. Maybe it was common for castles to be converted into schools over there and maybe the UK put an emphasis on teaching the young generation things that the American school system overlooked such as _writing with a quill pen_.

But John had been on earth too long and had seen too much to truly believe such a thing. They might be an ocean apart, but John knew that such distance should not matter. Schools, even if they were located in Scotland, should not be teaching children how to write with quill pens and parchment paper, maybe that is what the school meant when they said it had a one-of-a-kind education. For it must certainly be one-of-a-kind because there were many old schools and universities located in England and its surrounding countries that did not require students to learn how to write with quill pens.

Opening up the letter, he felt the weight of the heavy parchment. He did not immediately read his son's letter, instead, he took the time to observe his son's penmanship. A fountain pen could have very easily been used in place of a quill pen, but given the type of paper used, John thought it seemed more probable that a quill pen was used. Though again, the whole notion of using quill pens and fountain pens for everyday writing just seemed absurd, it was the twenty-first century they were in.

It was written in a childish scribble, yet somehow, it held a sense of maturity about it. There were no random blotches of ink scattered around the paper that one might expect from a beginner nor was there any heavy-handed strokes that would show clumsiness with the inkwell. While the writing was in no way calligraphy, it did have a neatness to it that made John wonder just how much writing this school required of its students, and how much was done using such archaic methods. No twelve-year-old in this day and age should be this proficient with a quill pen.

 _Dear Sir,_

John started out reading it to the room at large.

What twelve-year-old began his letters with "dear sir"? Although it was good that his guardians had instilled manners into him.

 _You probably don't know who I am or why I am writing, but I am your son, Henry Winchester. My professors said that I should write to you and introduce myself since I just found out that you are my father and because we don't know anything about each other. So, er, here goes._

 _I like to go by Harry and I am twelve years old. I am currently in my second year at the boarding school I attend. It's located in Scotland, but I live in Surrey with my aunt and uncle during the summer months…._

John trailed off when it became clear he wasn't going to be heard over the cacophony of noise.

"Is he just going to ignore the fact that his school is a castle?" Sam asked incredulously.

"If he says his uniform involves a kilt I will disown him," declared Dean, cause no brother of his would be caught dead in a kilt, it just wasn't manly. Ladies weren't attracted to men wearing skirts, they liked men who drove around in classic cars.

" _What_?" Dean said defensively when Sam looked at him with an I-can't-believe-you're-my-brother look.

There hadn't been any mention of any school uniforms, yet at least, as John supposed it wasn't uncommon for boarding schools to have uniforms. John could have ignored the exchange, but some of the things that came out of Dean's mouth…

"You are not going to disown your brother over something as silly as a kilt! It does not matter that he lived with another family for most of his life, he is your brother and family sticks together. Maybe in Scotland, it is not uncommon for schools to be located inside castles. Those things can be addressed in your own letters to him, now if you two can shut-up for a moment, I'd like to see what else Henry has to say."

"Yes, sir." The two men mumbled, they _would_ be addressing their "concerns" in their letters to their brother.

 _I have two best mates here at school. Ronald, or Ron, for short, who has five older brothers and one younger sister. Ron was the first person I met at school and we have been friends ever since. Hermione, my other friend, is the smartest girl in our year, but she didn't become our friend until Halloween night back in our first year. She forces Ron and me to study all the time and sometimes makes us redo our homework- she's always making Ron redo his, but she lets us copy her notes and helps us with our work so we don't mind. Mostly._

 _When we are not attending class or making endless trips to the Library, because Hermione is in need of another book for some "light reading", Ron and I like to play sports together. I have a position on one of the school's teams, it's my second year holding the position. First years aren't usually allowed to play on a team, but there was an opening so I, er, landed it. Unfortunately, the Headmaster is not allowing any of us to play this year, but that does not mean Wood isn't making us practice. It doesn't leave me much time to sleep or write as usually we have to either practice late in the evening or get up at five in the morning and practice before breakfast three to four times a week._

 _James, my um, adoptive dad, was also on the team when he was my age. He played a couple of different positions while here at school and won loads of trophies and even has a badge with his name on it! One day, I hope to have my name placed right beside his in the trophy room._

"The kid must really like sports," Dean whistled. "Which is good, it probably means the kid can run. But he never said what sport it was he played. Probably soccer. They play that or Cricket over there right? Good thing he's not a band geek. If he said he played the bagpipes while wearing a kilt…" Dean said with a shutter.

Everyone ignored Dean.

"He's written more, maybe he mentions what sport he play's," Bobby spoke up for the first time peering at the letter in John's hand trying to get away from talking about sports and kilts.

"Maybe," John responded with a frown, it didn't look like it.

 _All my professors expect me to follow in my dad's footsteps and become a police officer when I grow up. I guess it's because I look a lot like him, except I have mum's eyes. Hermione says being a police officer is a very dangerous job, but she also thinks playing sports is dangerous and the rules are barbaric. Ron and I think it's just because it is the one thing she was not good at._

 _I suppose being a police officer could be dangerous- catching the bad guys and all, but it is a noble profession that everyone looks up to and it pays really well too. You have to get top grades in everything while at school and you have to have very good recommendations from a lot of people so it's kind of hard to get in, but as long as it's not Snape, sorry, Professor Snape give them, I should be okay. He doesn't like me because I look so much like dad and dad used to call him names when they attended school here. Ron wants to be a police officer too, maybe we could be partners one day! We're already partners in most of our classes and we spend a lot of time together so we know each other really well._

 _I have to go now so that I can give Professor McGonagall this letter so that she could send it before Post tomorrow._

 _I don't know when this will reach you because of the distance, but Professor McGonagall promised that you would write back. So um, I guess I will wait to hear back from you._

 _Harry_

When John stopped reading, the room, for once, remained quiet as they all tried to take in what they had just heard.

So his adoptive dad had been a police officer. John had never really put much thought into a policeman's salary. He knew that a typical American cop made a fairly modest salary, more than some, but they weren't getting rich either. Maybe police made more over there than they did here. It sure sounded like the requirements were a bit more.

John wasn't sure if he liked how the kid appeared to be pushed to do a certain job after leaving school. He was only twelve, he should not be compared to his father so closely nor should he be expected to pick up where his father left off. Of course, he was a hypocrite for believing such a thing- it wasn't like he had not forced Sam and Dean to join him on hunts, but he hadn't put up _too_ much fuss when Sam had decided to go off to college.

"So that girl, Hermione, thinks being a police officer is dangerous." Dean chuckled to himself.

"Wonder what she'd think about what we do, hunting and killing monsters? Now _that_ 's dangerous."

"Yeah, but it sounds like being a police officer could be dangerous," Sam said with worry. He hadn't even met Henry and he was already worrying about him.

Dean didn't seem to be too worried, he was of course, as he now had another, even younger, kid brother to worry about but he wasn't convinced that being a police officer could be as dangerous as what they did, no matter what his twelve-year-old kid brother said. If only he knew just what the job description of being a "police officer" entitled.

"Wonder why the headmaster isn't allowing the kid to play this year? Was it just him or the whole team?"

"Probably the whole school, if the Headmaster said it. I don't know though, ask him in the letter. I am going to ask him what sport it is he plays. He never mentioned it. Guess he was too excited about it. Don't know if I can handle talking sports 24/7," mused Dean.

John just sat back and listened to his sons. He looked at Bobby, he hadn't said much throughout this whole ordeal, probably because he had never met his other son. Bobby knew about what happened of course, but Mary and he had never gotten around to showing off their newest addition to him before Henry had disappeared.

But Bobby seemed to more interested in hearing what Dean and Sam were saying to say anything.

"Well, at least he has Hermione to help him focus on school," Sam said approvingly. He had always viewed school as the way to move on from hunting. He appreciated what his father had taught him throughout his and Dean's childhood but he did not know if he wanted to do that kind of work his whole life. If he wanted to bring a family up in that kind of environment.

He for one would be encouraging Henry to become a police officer or whatever else his heart desired.

"So are you going to be telling him about, you know?" All eyes now fell on John. John didn't answer at first.

"I don't know. Probably not, the woman has already said that these arrangements are just for the summer and that he would be attending school again in the fall. No need to get him involved if we don't have to. Henry needs to focus on school not hunting. I was hoping Bobby would allow him to stay here with you two, at least until he got more familiar with us."  
"What? I am not going to stay behind, I want to join you in your hunts." Dean exclaimed.

Sam didn't say anything.

"You need to be here with Sam and help him out, Dean. Henry will need both of you. He's lived all but three months of his life in England, this is going to be new to him. Henry's going to need someone to help him adjust and it will give you three a time to bond before he goes back to that school of his. Should everything work out and he spends the summer here, I am going to leave it up to you and Sam to make sure that he gets settled in." John said, sending Dean a look.

Dean made a face but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"He's going to need you too," Sam whispered, but John heard it anyway.


End file.
